The Best Laid Plans
by ArgentNoelle
Summary: Sometimes Loki hated himself.


Sometimes Loki hated himself. This was not often—after all, he was a prince of Asgard, and not only that, he was the smarter, younger prince of Asgard, which meant that he was better than Thor in all the ways that mattered (if only the rest of Asgard would admit it.)

So, most days, Loki liked himself just fine.

But sometimes, sometimes he could admit to himself that _perhaps_ he'd been a bit too zealous, just this once. A bit too hasty. Or even very, very, rash.

Right now, it was all of the above. He was berating himself harshly. Well—how could he have predicted that of all things, Laufey would do—this? He didn't _look_ suicidal.

"That was not part of the plan," he hissed, out of the corner of his mouth. They were, at the moment, congregated on the bifrost.

"Not part of _our_ plan, no," Laufey returned, sending Odin a harsh look.

Laufey most assuredly had the upper hand, for the first time in millennia—as he currently held control of not only the Casket, but the Bifrost as well… and all right, most of that was Loki's fault.

But it wasn't supposed to have turned out like this.

Odin stared at the frost giant wearily. Loki waited for him to pull a brilliant plan or counterattack out of his sleeve (after all, was he not the greatest king in all the nine realms?) but the silence dragged on… and on… and Loki began to realize, uneasily, that Odin was not doing anything.

He cast a desperate glance at his mother, who stared at him in thin-lipped disapproval.

And finally, his eyes were dragged, inexorably, to his foolish oaf of an older brother, Thor. Thor, who was not saying anything either, just staring in bewilderment, as though he couldn't believe what was happening.

Loki couldn't either. In fact he had no idea _what_ was happening, a rare occurrence for him, and one which he never handled well. "What are you talking about?" Loki burst out. "You can't _truly_ believe Odin is just going to—hand Thor… over?"

Thor looked from Mother, to father, to Laufey, and then finally to Loki. His gaze was not malicious, only disappointed—and that hurt more than a thousand angry words. But it was also baffled, and Loki reflected his silent bafflement back at him.

"What plan is Laufey speaking of, Father?" Thor asked.

Odin said nothing.

"It's no surprise he wouldn't want to say—after all, he wouldn't want everyone to know of how he _broke his sworn oath_."

"You take that back!" Thor flared up, but Mother rested a hand gently on his shoulder, and he quieted at once. "Mother?" he asked uncertainly.

Laufey laughed. Long. Loki shifted uncomfortably, wishing heartily that he had gone with his _first_ plan, which had involved _not actually giving Laufey the Casket_.

"Near the end of the War," Laufey said, "Both sides were weary with fighting. We were losing—but Odin knew well that we would not give up. We would wear his kingdom to the bone, fighting until there were none left alive. And so we arranged a plan, in secret correspondences—a plan that would ensure our planet was well-treated when he finally got his filthy hands on it, and a plan that would save the lives of many tired Asgardians. Ah yes—don't look so contemptuous. Even the strongest warrior becomes tired, after so long a war as that. Peace was wished for desperately between both sides.

"And so we made a plan, and I—like a fool—believed my opponent an honorable one." Laufey spat on the ground, freezing to ice on the bifrost.

Thor looked at Father. They were all looking at Father, Loki realized—Mother was looking too, with an expression of resigned disapproval on her face, and Laufey with one of murderous rage.

"I did what I thought was right," Odin said, at last.

Laufey's eyes burned. "I'm _sure_." He turned to Thor, and began to speak once more. "The plan was simple—Odin would not refuse on his acquisition of the Casket, saying he would take it by force if we would not hand it over—and I agreed, on the condition that we be allowed to use it once a year to maintain our world. To make sure both sides would keep to the bargain, and since we both had sons—newborns, I proposed we exchange them as hostages, my son to live on Asgard, and his son to live on Jotunheim."

Thor looked confused. "Did your son die?" he asked.

The sound Laufey made was a growl. "Worse than death!" he said. "My son is dead to me—he has been dead to me for many a year, brought up in ignorance of his birth, his people—brought up to regard us as _monsters_—"

"What happened to him?" Loki asked, despite himself intrigued by the frost giant's story.

Odin sighed, and Laufey looked at Loki for the first time. His mouth twisted. "He was stolen," he said. "By Odin himself. Odin took my son, but he did not give his son to me as he had promised. Just as he stole our Casket and did not return it to us."

Loki was beginning to feel a strange queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He did not know why. He did not _want_ to know why.

"So…" Thor said, slowly, "I was promised to you."

"Yes," Laufey spat. He turned—a long, graceful circle—coming up to stand above Loki. And then, with a sigh, he grabbed Loki's arm.

Loki did not know what was going on. He did not know what was going on, but Mother did not look surprised. Father did not look surprised. Only Thor stared in horror as Loki's skin dissipated, to be replaced by—blue. Blue, and—and it was suddenly unbearably hot, sweltering.

He tried to wrench his hand away but Laufey held on tightly. Rather than make a scene, Loki stood still. He did not know what else to do.

The voice that came was Thor's. Chocked, disbelieving. "Loki is—Loki is your _son_?"

No, no—that was not right. Loki tried to say so, but for some reason nothing came out. He felt as though he was an illusion of himself, and he had forgotten how to work the strings.

"My son, taken from me against my will. He was my son once, but no longer. He belongs to Asgard, now—may its crops rot and its land turn to ashes."

Laufey let go of Loki's hand. "Now I have my Casket back. And I have your Bifrost, too—a funny irony, is it not? But I will not stop here—no. Odin must pay for his crimes. And what better way than to keep him to his Oath?"

Odin stepped forwards. "You will not take Thor," he said evenly. But Thor put out a hand. "Wait—" he said. He looked dazed and sick, as though his whole world had been pulled out from under him. Thor the _noble_—

Loki knew what Thor was going to do even before he said it, and yet he could not stop him. His arms were turning back—to their natural color (not natural, is it?) but he could still feel the poison that lay beneath. That he could have—that he—

"I will come with you," Thor said. "Whatever my father has done to wrong you, do not believe it reflects on all of Asgard."

Laufey stared. Odin stared. Frigga stared too. Loki let out a high, wild laugh. "Oh Thor, you fool—" he said, and doubled over. He could not seem to stop laughing.

"Thor—" Odin said dangerously. "Mind your tongue."

"No," Thor said. He walked up to stand by Laufey. "I can't. I'm sorry."

Loki found that he was crying as well as laughing. Mother came over—he tried to push her away but she held onto him, and he shuddered in her embrace, his crying quieting.

He stared up at Thor.

Laufey grinned, and placed a hand on Thor's shoulder. "Well now. This was unexpected. The son you have is a better man than you are, Allfather," he said. And then Loki was convinced his mind must be playing tricks, because before his eyes, the image of Thor wavered—to be replaced by that of a frost giant.

The frost giant started, staring at its hands in shock and fear.

"Ah yes," Laufey said. "I might not have mentioned… that. What you see before you, _prince_ Thor, is the spell your own _brother_ wears. I thought it fitting you try it."

"You—you can't—" and its voice was _still Thor's_. Loki wanted to dash his head against the ground to escape from this nightmare. "I did not agree to this—I only said I would come with you."

Laufey's grip tightened on the frost giant—on Thor's—shoulder, digging in like talons. "We don't all get what we agree to, do we," he said quietly. He made a mocking bow in Odin's direction, before pulling Thor close to him and vanishing in a beam of dark energy.

Loki collapsed onto the ground. The bifrost beneath him shone in rainbow colors. Before him, Thor was—Thor was gone.

Sometimes, Loki hated himself with a passion.

.

.

.


End file.
